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[22 February 1869]. Browning, Robert to Wedgwood, Julia.

[22 February 1869]. Browning, Robert to Wedgwood, Julia.

[London]
Monday Afternoon. [22 February 1869]
You well know I mean nothing, by my words about the anthem, beyond what you mean when you hope “I did not laugh too disrespectfully at your last letter,”—why, the very spirit of truth is in these “lies”, like an odour one has to imprison in an oil, or some such vehicle: I blush (for you) thinking what you please to imply in this allowance of “disrespectful laughter,” if I be minded to profit thereby: am I really not to signify never so obliquely that I feel grateful for your listening so long to what .. does not altogether please you? In another sense, I can believe, for more reasons than one, that you do & will patiently read what I write: more than that, I know my work is sincere, and not likely to abound in these days, and is at least worth examination,—even if you did not wish well to my working.
Yes, I got the letter you enquire about, but judged it inexpedient to clap my hands at the apparition of your praise like a moonrise, till I was out of the wood,—and, behold, I was soon ordained to knock my head against a tree! How could I expect you to like Guido? See,—as long as you don’t like, nay, hate—simply– I sympathise with you: tell me, “I hate the deed, and consideration of it”—nay, go on and add,

[London]
Monday Afternoon. [22 February 1869]
You well know I mean nothing, by my words about the anthem, beyond what you mean when you hope “I did not laugh too disrespectfully at your last letter,”—why, the very spirit of truth is in these “lies”, like an odour one has to imprison in an oil, or some such vehicle: I blush (for you) thinking what you please to imply in this allowance of “disrespectful laughter,” if I be minded to profit thereby: am I really not to signify never so obliquely that I feel grateful for your listening so long to what .. does not altogether please you? In another sense, I can believe, for more reasons than one, that you do & will patiently read what I write: more than that, I know my work is sincere, and not likely to abound in these days, and is at least worth examination,—even if you did not wish well to my working.
Yes, I got the letter you enquire about, but judged it inexpedient to clap my hands at the apparition of your praise like a moonrise, till I was out of the wood,—and, behold, I was soon ordained to knock my head against a tree! How could I expect you to like Guido? See,—as long as you don’t like, nay, hate—simply– I sympathise with you: tell me, “I hate the deed, and consideration of it”—nay, go on and add,